


lingerie and lucky charms

by cassandralied



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Episode: s03e09 The Wish, F/F, Femslash, Internalized Homophobia, Missing Scene, Pillow Princess Cordelia Chase, hints of bilingual cordelia, she has LAYERS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandralied/pseuds/cassandralied
Summary: “You’re not a loser at least,” Cordelia thinks she says, or something like it, and then there’s a sort of oh in Anya’s eyes that Cordy likes, a sort of awakening.A missing scene between Anya and Cordelia meeting and before Cordelia's wish.
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Anya Jenkins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	lingerie and lucky charms

They have a sleepover at Cordelia’s house. It’s Anya’s idea, which is pretty cool, and she doesn’t do it in a “you poor baby needing moral support way, either”.

“My dad’s away on business this week and the house is empty. Said I could have a party but this whole school is full of losers,” Anya had said, and then cast one of those pretty little side glances over. “You can sleep over, if you want.”

It’s said with just the right amount of deference to make her feel like the old Cordelia, and Anya’s pretty cool for a short girl who won’t wear heels, so Cordy agrees.

* * *

“Your hot tub is bigger than mine,” Cordelia says, surprised. She’s in her flashiest red bikini, not the gold one that Xander liked, because she’d thrown that one out.

Anya slicks her hair back. Her face is kind of heart-shaped.

“It’s whatever,” she says, all false modesty. Like a rich girl should be.

Cordelia’s toenails are painted bloodred, and they look even brighter against the pool’s floor. She perches on a ledge, and then one elegant eyebrow raises at her companion. “You’re not wearing any clothes.”

“Oh.” Anya looks surprised, maybe annoyed at herself, but not embarassed. Not that she has much to be embarrassed about, Cordy notices idly. Her body is kinda perfect. A little flatchested compared to Cordelia, but it works cause she’s small. Some people might call her hot in a petite sort of way. Cordy’s not sure, but she thinks she might be one of those people.

Anya’s been talking, but Cordelia only tunes in to hear, “Research, skinny dipping was a popular sport among mortals — _us_. Among us.”

“You’re kind of weird,” Cordelia says, but she likes weird people. She liked Xander Harris, after all, so clearly she’s got a thing for the less socially fortunate.

“Weird?” Anya repeats, like she doesn’t know what on earth Cordelia’s thinking. Cordelia’s not really sure when her hand ended up on Anya’s thigh, but she keeps it there. The water’s too warm for rational thought, after all, so she spreads her legs and relaxes.

“You’re not a loser at least,” Cordelia thinks she says, or something like it, and then there’s a sort of _oh_ in Anya’s eyes that Cordy likes, a sort of _awakening_.

Anya shifts a little closer to Cordelia, and the water is steamy but not that steamy and damn, girl’s really got an even shave down there, huh?

“Who needs men,” Cordelia says softly. Anya puts her hand over Cordelia’s on her thigh and leans in a little bit. Her hair is wet, and she smells like some of that magic weed that Giles is always waving around.

Then Cordelia kisses her, because she’s never been one to wait, and Anya’s a really good kisser for the homeschooled private school girl she supposedly is. She slides a hand behind Cordelia’s head and does something with her tongue in Cordelia’s mouth that makes Cordelia’s painted toes curl just a little bit.

“I like the way you’re thinking,” Anya says, and her hand slides between Cordelia’s thighs, tugging at the strings keeping her bikini together. “Very logical.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Cordelia pants. Loose strands of hair escape from her ponytail, and her chest is heaving particularly attractively, like a romance novel girl. “Miss, uh, logic-girl 1998.”

What the hell is wrong with her? Cordy’s never been good at dirty talk but this is the kind of shit that Willow would say.

Then again, Cordelia doesn’t think Willow ever has or will have an experience like this, with a girl’s hand pulling her bikini bottom off and just _whoa she just slid that finger right in there huh_

When Cordelia’s done shuddering through the aftershocks and swearing in a language she _never_ uses at home, Anya, looking pretty pleased with herself, kisses her lightly on the lips. “You want me to go down on you?”

“Inside,” Cordelia manages to say, even though her brain feels like it’s running down the hot tub drain. “I promised my mom when I was thirteen that I’d never let anyone go down on me on less than silk sheets.”

“A sense of luxury for human wealth,” Anya says in that weird way she has of saying things. “I can appreciate that.” She stands, full naked, like that lady in the Botti-cello painting, totally unashamed. Cordelia stares at the water dripping down Anya’s nipples, pouring down her abs. The silver of her necklace glitters between her breasts.

Anya offers Cordelia a hand and pulls her up. “You have towels?” she says, all matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, of course, they’re imported from Italy.”

Anya goes like she’s going to wrap the towel around Cordy, like some kind of gentleman, but Cordelia’s tired of gentlemen and things ending in general with _men_ , so she grabs it and wraps it around herself.

They eat dinner in Cordelia’s room in their pajamas, the silk ones and not the ones with the bunnies, which she thought Anya probably wouldn’t like as much. Anya forgot her pajamas, so she wears a nightdress of Cordelia’s, all black lace between her breasts and a hem that brushes her mid-thigh.

“This must be tiny on you,” Anya had observed, plucking at it. Cordelia finishes the nail polish coating on Anya’s left hand. “If you move, it’s going to smear.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ve never had my nails done before,” Anya admits, and then looks embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Cordelia tries to reassure her, tries to be _empathic_. “I wasn’t always cool either, you know. As a little kid, boys pulled my hair and called me Gordelia.”

“Gordelia?” Anya’s mouth twitches —she’s trying not to laugh.

“I know, I know, but I-Hate-You-Cause-Your-Dad-Is-Rich-delia is way longer.”

Anya laughs then, not the pretty, pointed way that Cordelia spent years practicing, but a real genuine laugh. Maybe it’s the realest thing about her.

* * *

Anya does go down on her on silk sheets, and it feels like what sex is supposed to be like in the movies. Cordelia is particularly proud of the way she tosses her hair back when Anya hits a sweet spot, and for the most part _Truly Madly Deeply_ playing on the radio drowns out the more embarrassing moans.

“I wish you would never stop doing that,” Cordelia mumbles, her back arching. She feels Anya’s hot laughter against her thigh.

They curl into bed together like a couple of lesbos, but Cordelia’s too tired to mind. Her muscles feel like hot goo, and she likes the way Anya’s breath stirs her hair when she’s sleeping.

“Night, An,” Cordelia mumbles, stupidly soft, like she might say to a boyfriend. She snuggles tighter under the blankets, feeling _safe_.

Tomorrow she can put her Queen C crown back on, she’s sure, but for tonight she has Anya, and maybe everything’s going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> i write this in like?? twenty minutes after watching the wish and getting gay vibes from Anya and Cordelia saying "screw the menfolk"


End file.
